You'll think of me
by Swamy
Summary: After many years of partnership everything seems to be over.
1. Detectives don't have partners

**Faith POV**

**Detectives don't have partners.**

It was easy and nice. Yeah, at the very beginning it was, it seemed as it was.

I had someone who opened the door for me, someone who wanted to pay for dinner and someone who kept telling me all that kind andfluffy things a woman would never admit she wants to hear. And he still does.

John is the perfect man and I am very, very lucky.

He doesn't like beer very much, thank God! He almost never drinks.

He remembers to pay the bills and help me every night with cleaning the kitchen.

He remembers every special occasion, and he always has a gift for me. He usually asks me what I want, to make sure to give an useful gift.

He actually sleeps in a real pajama, with shirt, pants and all. It's good to see such a man in your house when you spent over 20 years with an oversized man in a pair of white boxers and t-shirt, with a new wine or mustard stain on it every day.

See what I mean? It's a good change.

When Fred was in my life, my only way out of bad clothing was Bosco.

He never had a calm spirit, and he never had a good diet in his life. I tried to make him eat broccoli but I failed over and over again.

But he does have good taste with clothes.

I hated him when I had to wait for him to change into his jeans after shift. He was slower then I and I had to watch him while he was putting on his shirt. He could at least have a less muscular chest, but no, he was Bosco. And he could have less large shoulders. A lot of men have a happy life even without that kind of shoulders, but then again, he was Bosco.

And Bosco had always the elastic band of his boxer out of his jeans. He said it was cool and it was another point for his, already complete, sexual life.

Well, maybe it was, but it was a real torture for me and _my_ sexual life.

I never, ever, thought about Bosco in that way. Well, maybe once or twice, but you can't work everyday with the hard cop with puppy eyes and don't fall for him once in your life. By the way, I had too much to think about, thanks to Fred and baby-Bosco.

Yeah, baby-Bosco. There was close-your-eyes-before-his-smile-blind-you-Bosco, old-fashioned-Bosco, jerk-Bosco, you-don't-think-enough-of-me-Bosco, I'm-you're-partner-Bosco and baby-Bosco.

He could be just like one of my children. The only difference is that my Charlie is too young to lie down a woman with two words, and even if he wasn't, I still don't know if it's a normal human attitude or if it's just Bosco. By the way, I was never that woman, but I learned of a new one every day. You see, we were partners and partners always share everything. We shared more then others.

Now I share my house with John Miller. Every night I go to sleep in the bed I share with him, after a cup of tea. He's not exactly breathtaking, but I guess I'm too old for that kind of thinking, right?

I saw close-your-eyes-before-his-smile-blind-you-Bosco a couple of times. It's not something you can forget.

The I'm-you're-partner-Bosco, anyway, was always there, under the surface, while he was stealing my chips, or shining brightly while we were sitting in our car during night shift.

But John doesn't steal my chips, he uses the car instead of running for three blocks to catch a bully and he don't think of Bosco as a threat.

It would be impossible because Bosco and I rarely see each other anymore and when we do it's always work related and John is never around.

It's just the heavy silence right after Charlie asks me if he can go to see uncle B, or when Em tells me to tell Bosco she said hi, or when I ask Charlie to put the rotten food in his fridge in the garbage when Bosco isn't around.

It's a heavy silence, but he never talk about it and it disappear within minutes.

I guess it's just an old habit to think of supplying Bosco with non-toxic food. But John's silence is still strange. Maybe because he's always been good at letting me know how he feels by using words. He seems to know a lot of words.

Bosco and I, we didn't need them and it was a good thing, because half of the time when we were together we didn't know how to use them anyway.

Jerk-Bosco was very predictable. I always knew when he was about to show up.

He was there every time someone made the error to think he could the show away from him, and every time I wasn't in the mood to have a conversation about what was wrong in the world or when I didn't agree with him.

Jerk-Bosco could be directly proportional to you-don't-think-enough-of-me-Bosco that always ended up with a full apparition of baby-Bosco. It was a sick circle.

Now there's a mature man in my life. He's a father. He's quiet. He's already up when the ring goes off, and he finds the time to read the newspaper while he's drinking black coffee.

Bosco smashed his alarm clock almost every week, and he needed to run to be at the police station at the start of his shift.

That happen because he's often out at night.

Before all this happened, before I ended up pretending, even with myself, that this is a new life where Maurice Boscorelli isn't needed, I was with him at night. Nothing special, just a beer or two. Well, to be true, I never finished a beer. Usually when we were out of the bar I had the bottle in my hand, but just to play the self-confident woman, and he would let me do that, and paid for me that beer.

That was when he always came out old-fashioned-(gentleman)-Bosco. I would never say it out loud, but he can be kind. I mean, kind in the highest sense of the word.

He had this need to know I was safe, the need to be there at the other side of the street while I entered my building, and he stayed there watching the window of my kitchen until he could see the lights go on.

He always offered me a ride home and his trust.

Right there, when you can mix I'm-you're-partner-Bosco and old-fashioned-Bosco you can see my favourite version of him. The most lovable and scaring to death version of him.

The I'd-die-for-you-Bosco version.

I saw him on a spring day, behind the glass doors of a bank, and in a hospital, during the most horrible day of his life.

And that's when I betrayed him.

I had no intentions to. It's not that I didn't trust him to be a good cop. It's that I didn't trust me to be ready to let him be that cop, knowing he could end up putting his life in front of a gun again.

That's why the I'd-die-for-you-Bosco makes me tremble, and cry, and think a lot about the soft way he whispers to me when I'm sad.

I think somewhere along the way my daughter realized the existence of the I'd-die-for-you-Bosco, too. You know, when you're a young and naive girl and you dream about your hero, who will come on his white horse and offer you his love and his devotion? My daughter met her personal prince with the blue mustang, instead of a white horse, when she was four and she's been luckier than me because she could easily take out the close-your-eyes-before-his-smile-blind-you-Bosco.

Usually, I was trying to sober up my husband, or something like that, and I lived on the danger to come back in the kitchen and find a rough guy being beautifully tender with a little girl who watched him in adoration. The adoration is still there while she tells me to say "hi" to him for her. And it's there every time she comes to me at work and look around for him, thinking I don't notice it. When she manage to find him then close-your-eyes-before-his-smile-blind-you-Bosco would magically appear, and that little, almost invisible, scar can't take away his charm.

My Charlie, anyway, is still loyal to Uncle B. I guess male are simpler then female.

But, in a way, Uncle B. was a hero for him, too.

He still is, in a more mature way.

When Charlie was a child he loved Uncle B. because he had a gun and a car and he played Play Station with him. I could never tell if was Nintendo or Play Station, but I learned.

Now Uncle B. is Charlie's hero because he saved his Mom, and he cancel his dates to watch basketball with him and gives him advices about girls. I don't know how much I can trust him with this last thing, but he never played with girls heart. He always told them his intentions right from the start and I like to think that he can mark my boy with his philosophy 'never touch a woman or a kid'. Fred wasn't always the perfect husband, alcohol influenced his attitude so I'm grateful to Bosco for this thing.

So at last I guess I can understand John's silence, for the things he can't be for me and my kids. I know it hurts him a little but it can't be helped. I mean, it's not so terrible, I still sleep with him, and eat with him, and live with him. I just can't wash away the memories of Bosco and our years together.

Memories don't hurt anyone, right? They are just memories after all.

So, it's no big deal that I freaked out last week when I heard of a car accident where a cop died. And it's nothing strange about that I wanted to know who he was, since it was Bosco's car and it's no problem what-so-ever that I begged Captain Richardson to tell me.

And it's totally understandable if I got mad because of his stubborn line "We don't know for sure. We need to wait before I can tell you anything" and that I told him that I didn't care about that crap and he needed to tell me right then because Bosco is my partner.

John watched me while I calmed down myself, and I felt guilty because of my relief for the death of a cop that wasn't Bosco, and for John's eyes on me.

I was expecting his usual silence, so it was like he slapped my face when he said "Detectives don't have partners".

I could almost feel Bosco next to me asking me if he could give me a ride home after shift.

Detectives don't have partners.

Yeah, but I do.

3


	2. Someone could love you anyway

**Bosco's POV**

**Someone could love you anyway**

Bethany is sweet, and very hot.

It took me a week to remember her name. I'm not used to have to remember girl's name for too long. They never stayed around more than two weeks and, anyway, I have an address book to take care of that.

I have only had two women in my life, and they were just enough.

There's Ma.

She keeps treating me like a baby. She keeps telling me how to treat a woman properly, and she keeps asking me for grandchildren.

Lately she's trying to not do it. Only God knows why, but it's a relief.

Sometimes when I look away, thinking, Ma smiles at me like she understands something I don't and she tries hard to give me silent support. She tries but she always fail.

And then there's Faith. Well, there was Faith.

I can't really explain what she was, or what we were together.

She was my mother, my sister, my best friend and my… well, I think I could just say she was all the things I needed a partner to be. And together we had the kind of world I could get used to live in, and I did for years.

Now I don't see her much.

She has her own office, her own telephone, and a suit instead of a uniform. It suits her.

You know, she was a big part of my life. Now her absence is, and maybe, anytime soon, it won't be anymore, because there won't be any friendship left.

Charlie tells me something about her every now and then, but usually she's just a passing name in his story. What he tells me are just small things, and I pretend to listen just to please him.

It's easy. When he talks about her I don't look at him and pretend that something else caught my attention.

But I can't fool Emily that easily. She's just as smart as her mom, and when I perform my little act I can tell she knows I care.

It's not so bad. I've spent years by Faith's side. Now in the seat next to mine there's a man I barely know. I have no desire to know anything but if he knows how to shot a man between the eyes and how to drive during a chase.

The last one didn't. Now he's buried somewhere in the graveyard near the police garage.

I think it's a bad joke.

I tried to help him but he was dead within seconds, I barely had the time to understand what happened. I feel sorry for him and his family, but it's a risk that comes with the job, and my days go on like all the others.

It's nothing like with Faith.

I've been sitting in that hospital, two floors under hers, stupidly trying to hear her breathing.

Lately I've spent a lot of time looking at hospital walls. Almost died, almost paralyzed.

But I would still put myself between a gun and anyone. I'd do it because I'm a cop, I defend people. That's what I wanted to do, and that's what I do everyday.

Some rookie thinks I'm a hero. All the others think I'm a jerk.

The truth is that I don't give a fuck what they think or what they think they know about me.

What they don't know, and what Faith doesn't know, is that I'd put myself between her and a gun again not because I'm a cop. But because is right, because she's my partner, but most of all, because I don't want her to die before me.

Now there's Bethany.

We have been seeing each other for almost two months now - a record.

She's a paramedic and understands my job.

Charlie met her once. We were about to go to the cinema and he showed up at my apartment to talk about this fantastic girl, Jennifer. A cheerleader. When I was younger that was my favourite kind of girl, too.

He was very excited because he wanted to invite her to a party but didn't know how to do it and still be able to breathe, so I told Bethany we had to cancel our date, and while I was walking her to the door she told me she didn't know I had a son.

It's kind of hard to explain that you don't have a son when a teenager boy makes you cancel three dates with a hot blonde in a month time, but when I told her he was the son of a cop she seemed to understand.

The worst time through was when a call from Emily woke her up while I was in the shower.

Emily wanted to know how I was feeling after knowing from Faith – 'mom' is the magic word that gave Bethany the alert - about my car accident.

Bethany has been watching me in a strange way for three days after that, trying to find some trace on my hands. So I had to explain her about Faith. The edited story. It's not like Faith and I ever had an affair or something like that. It's just that my life have to be only mine.

I've spent years 15 with her, night and day, having her back, while she had mine.

I've been there for her and for her children. She reminded me to eat something green every now and then and I always knew when she was worried about something from the way she looked out the window of our car and we never had sex.

Well, I guess that for some people it would look like a marriage.

About the sex, I thought about it once. I was helping her with shooting and she seemed so nervous that I thought I could help her relaxing.

Trust Bosco, Bosco is good.

But, I thought about it only for one second, because she was a good person after all, and a married woman.

Yes, she was a married woman, and she was helping me with my exams so I couldn't fuck up everything, and she wasn't my kind of woman anyway.

I don't think I never had the idea of her as just a woman. You know, she was my best friend, my partner and you have to think about your partner as a cop. A cop with full breast, a cop that fills out her uniform very good, but still a cop.

And even if I knew she was a woman I still hated to hear about her 'hot nights' with Fred. I wish every day I didn't hear what I did. Very disturbing.

Now I see her in a suit and heels. Long blonds hair on her shoulders and pink lips.

And every single time is like some sort of revelation.

By the way, Bethany can tell you, I have my ways to make women forget about their doubts. Actually, judging from the way she screamed my name seven times to my neighbours I can tell her doubts didn't last long. I _did_.

What can I say? As a cop I'm used to double-shift and good athletic performances, if you know what I mean.

I think she'll be happy if Em calls again.

I'll be happy too, for other reasons.

I miss my little girl, but I have problems remembering she's not so little anymore.

Last time she was in my apartment it's been about four months ago. She told me about her exams while Charlie was putting the rotten food he found in my fridge in the garbage.

Thank God he doesn't know how to hide anything from me. I saw him while he was doing it, I didn't ask him anything, but he told me everything anyway.

I wish it was so easy to have a complete confession from criminals, too.

He was very embarrassed, so we made an agreement. He can check out my fridge while I'm around so he don't need to hide me anything, and I will never tell Faith I know she didn't lost her old habits. It's a secret between Charlie, Em and I.

Emily told me she thinks is stupid.

She told me about John too. She and Charlie have this way to think of him, as loyal, quiet, and not whiny. If she ever adds that he doesn't foul on the carpet I would have the complete image of a white poodle I once saw in a pet shop that Faith and I scoured.

I hope Faith at least get something hot during her nights. It's probably just a hot cup of tea, but I don't think Emily would ever have that kind of information.

You know, Faith has this mom-mind, she doesn't see the passionate woman she is when she looks in the mirror, so she doesn't ask for passion.

Someone should kiss her breathless and make her see that woman.

And even more.

I don't think she can count on John for this.

Sometimes I wonder if she loves him or if she's with him to have his company, just like a loyal dog. But maybe I'm just the usual jerk.

It's just that I have this feeling, like sometimes I'm mad at him because he doesn't love her like he should. But it's none of my business, right?

I'm not even her partner anymore.

The other day I was in desperate need of a coffee, it was the end of my shift and I went to the coffee machine. Miller was taking two coffees. Frank Manson and I were waiting to take ours, and John was trying to remember how she takes her coffee.

I told him to move his ass because there were other people who needed caffeine, and he excused himself telling me he wasn't sure how Faith takes her coffee and maybe he should ask her.

I hate the way he always try to be friendly, it's just like he has no good or bad thought of anyone. That kind of people is insignificant.

I just said "One sugar, and milk, now get off."

Luckily I'm known as the infamous jerk and no one pays attention to what I say.

But your man should at least know how you take your coffee, right? This or he has to live to make you have three orgasms at night.

Bethany had four of them last night.

Yeah, I'm guilty, I don't know how she takes her coffee, but she doesn't live with me.

I like her, she likes me. Who can blame her for that?

She's sweet.

Yesterday I was getting dressed in front of the mirror and she was right behind me, then she embraced me. I told her I knew I was sexy so there was no need to make it so evident. You know, mystery is so much better.

And then she told me "Oh baby, you're a jerk… but someone could love you anyway"

And for a moment Faith, opening a door, flashed my mind.

If only I could, I would have followed her.

Bethany smiled at me in the mirror and I smiled back.

5


End file.
